Remember Me?

I've been neglecting the blog again. Just thought I would mention it in case you didn't notice. I don't really feel bad about it since Manda stopped posting like a year ago... now she just tells me to post whatever she wants. She's cute, so it's working for me.

I hate posts like these where I feel pressured to summarize the last two months into a couple of paragraphs. Not going to happen. Just not going to happen.

 Pointless information from the last 2 months:

  • I had gas a couple of times. Gas-X seemed to help.
  • Manda changed her favorite drink to vodka and cranberry.

  • I found out I have tendinitis in my right elbow.

  • Manda decided not to get her hair cut. At one time she had planned to.
  • I hit 5000 miles on my car. It lost its oil-change-virginity yesterday.
  • Manda ran in her first 5K. I was her #1 fan. Short skirt, pom-poms and all.
  • We changed out our rings for our 5 year anniversary. Called it "the 5 year upgrade".
  • Sadly, three of Manda's relatives passed away.

  • Didn't sleep for two days while I made my sister a homemade Christmas present.
  • Manda joined Facebook... FINALLY. My life is so much easier now.
  • My car was officially named Ellen. Give you one guess who the namesake is.  Now I get to say that I turn her on and drive her crazy. *giggles*

Now for a story about Garrison. I know you've missed these the most.

Garrison. My handsome little man himself. He has something like acid reflux... I don't know. It makes him throw up if he doesn't eat. Anyways. Today I was laying on my bed working when he made the non-confusable "I'm going to throw up" stomach wrenching noises. I tossed my laptop aside and grabbed him. We have a routine where he makes the "I'm going to throw up" noises, I grab him, hold him over the trash can and then he throws up. It requires much less clean up and he's actually quite good with his throw-up aim.

Everything went according to the schedule until I misread the "I'm going to throw up a second time" cues. I caught on as his body wretched, summoning up the goods from his belly. I started to swing him around to the trash can... and well, I don't know if the momentum from the swing accelerated the summoning process, but he spewed mid swing. I watched the "goods" fly through the air and hit the bedroom door. Yes. One large mass of green/yellow stomach bile flew through the air and splattered on my bedroom door.

This was immediately funny. I'm still laughing about it. Dog vomit stories are always funny when they don't involve stained carpet and actual vomit landing on me.

Good Times.

My school and work schedules are getting back to normal, so blogging should be more frequent. Or so I hope. :o)

Peace Out

:o)

Ouch.

Garrison. My pride and joy. My little man. I call him "Handsome". He's a dog.

Really

, though. He's our son. (He must have gotten the full body hair gene from someone else.)

Garrison loves to run. Unfortunately, our townhouse doesn't have a backyard, patio or anything close to that. When we first moved in, he attempted to run around the coffee and dining tables. However, wood floors are not known for their traction. After falling over, slamming into walls and embarrassing himself countless times, he now avoids the wood floors. Instead, he hops from rug to rug when he's excited or wants to play. It is actually very cute.

Due to the lack of a backyard, Garrison has grown to love the dog park. His weekly visits are the highlight of his week. I didn't think dogs kept track of what day it was, but he always knows when it's Sunday.

This past Sunday, he was running around with 3 of his friends... Sorry, don't know their names. I know, I shouldn't let our son play with kids I don't even know, but they looked harmless. I don't think they were members of a gang or using drugs. Actually, I don't think Garrison knows their names either. After all, he identifies them by how their butts smell. According to him they're "had diarrhea earlier", "sweaty balls" and "needs to douche".

Anyways, he was running around with his friends. We didn't know he had gymnastic abilities. He launched into some sort of cartwheel, round off back handspring,

with a twist

... only he didn't stick the landing. I personally would have given him a score of 8 if he hand just stuck the landing.

A few minutes later, we noticed him limping around. Upon further inspection, we noticed a tear/cut in the pad of his paw.

It was none-life-threatening. More like a really horrid paper cut. Yet we had absolutely no idea how to fix it. Good thing his doctor's office is just down the street from the dog park AND open on Sundays. 

One hundred and fifty dollars... yes $150... later, he is bandaged up, given a weeks worth of antibiotics and sent home with pain killers. (Really. I thought it was a little much.)

He's only managed to remove his bandage once, which resulted in us wrapping his leg with athletic tape. He hasn't managed to get that off yet. But he is smart. I have no doubt he'll figure that one out.

Peace Out.

Gonna take a Trip?.

One might call us accident prone, or clumsy. Personally, I would simply describe us as a disaster in the days before catching our flight to Vegas for Dana's Bachelorette Party. Of course, this is meant in the funniest way possible. Funny. Because people hurting themselves is always funny.

Kidneys are important for several reasons. So, imagine my surprise when 4 days before we're supposed to leave, the act of peeing became painful. Manda suggested I call the doctor. But what rational sense did that make? Really the doctor? Simply because it hurts to pee? Nah. That's a waste of 3 or 4 perfectly good minutes of my day.

What's that saying? Hind site is 20/20?

Two days later, intense abdominal pain finally prompted me to contact my doctor. Personally, I think he overreacted with the suggestion to go the ER. Really, it was just intense abdominal pain. Antibiotics would clear that up.

And they did. What I didn't see coming was my hip going out the very night I started the antibiotics. Yes, one day before our flight to Vegas. Despite the antibiotics, I still had pain while peeing because it hurt to sit down! I tried peeing standing up, but after having to change my socks 3 times, I just gave up on it. Women were just not meant to pee this way.

Two doctor visits and a muscle relaxer later, I found myself taking the puppies out to pee before we left for the airport. This innocent and often repeated act, took a turn for the worse when Garrison's retractable leash attacked me. Yes. Attacked me. Three of my much needed, and often used, fingers were savagely strangled and burned. It hurt. A lot. I screamed. But not a girly scream. I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me.

After throwing the leashes in Manda's direction, I limped, yes limped. (remember the hip thing?) back into the house, and stuck my hand under the faucet. I needed to put out the flames that were arching off my fingers. Unfortunately, *sigh* anyone who lives in Phoenix knows there is no such thing as cold water coming out of a faucet in the summer. Impossible. Not gonna happen. Please try again in 6 months.

At this point I was jumping up and down (This helps the pain. Try it. It works) yelling things I hope small children didn't here. This situation was serious. Thankfully, a firefighter (she was short, blond, really cute.) arrived with ice. It was from the freezer. It was perfect. The pain subsided. Temporarily.

For the next 12 hours, I walked around with an ice pack on my hand. If the ice melted, which it did on occasion, I would cry until additional ice was found. Yes. I was a baby.

Things couldn't get worse could they? Right. I'll let Manda take it from here.

Peace Out.
Lindsay